Descent
by AmielQuantick
Summary: A story of sexual obsession, vengeance, power and human cruelty. LuciusNarcissa RegulusNarcissa
1. Default Chapter

Regulus Black was not important enough to be killed by Voldemort himself. 

The entangled lives of Lucius, Narcissa and Regulus descend further and further into extreme infatuation, self-destruction and absolute terror, as each is slowly destroyed by their individual torment.  But when Regulus tries to break the cycle, things change fast as Lucius Malfoy is recalled to Voldemort's side.  And there is more than the Dark Lord waiting for him.

A story of sexual obsession, vengeance, power and human cruelty.  

Lucius/Narcissa and Regulus/Narcissa

Rated R

DESCENT

A hacking, violent wretch pierced the cold Bulgaria morning, as liquid vomit spattered across the white porcelain.  On the bathroom floor-tiles of a cheap Sofiya hotel, the new winter light was harsh and stark, as the young aristocrat ran a damaged hand through his white-blond hair, smearing a trail of blood across his clammy forehead.

He collapsed backwards, gasping to breathe again, resting his weary, sweaty, agonised head against the flaking white radiator.

His grey eyes strayed to the tiny bathroom window above him, where he could see the bleak sky and icy clouds outside.  

How low we have become.

Lucius grasped the sink and hauled himself to his feet.  Seeing himself in the cracked glass caused that familiar surge of self-hatred, so he concentrated on unwrapping the bandage stuck to his hand with dried blood.  

It hurt when he started to peel it off, so he viciously yanked it harder, making it sear.

New blood coursed down to the plug, and the tap squeaked as he turned it until freezing water washed away the pain, at least for now.

The nausea was retaliating, hand in hand with a powerful headache, raging full-force into his skull.

He splashed ice water onto his face, and sighed, vaguely wishing it was his last breath.

No such sanctuary.

He turned and wrenched open the door into the hotel bedroom, where a mass of deep-plum hair was spread over one of the pillows in the large bed.

A pair of green eyes watched him gather his things, and root for his wallet.  Lucius scanned the worn carpet, and was relieved to spot the used contraceptive on the floor beside the empty vodka bottle.

Choking nausea seized him again, and he hurried to throw too much Bulgarian Leva to cover the cost of the room onto the table.  The woman in the bed sat up, clutching a sheet to her chest.

'Lucius Malfoy.  Will I see you again?'  A husky plea in a Bulgarian accent.  

But Malfoy had already turned from her and headed toward the door, filled with disgust and vicious self-loathing.

'You'd better hope you don't.'

*

The black, dead trees in silhouette against the deepest blue night stood unmoved by the occasional gusts that soared over the shadowed landscape.

The only effect was the rippling of the young man's black cloak, as he stood in front of his parents' almost deserted London house, the resonance of his apparation lost in the howls of the wind.

He approached the door and pushed it open with a trembling hand.

When the malevolence of the night had been safely locked out behind him, Regulus turned in the candlelit hallway.  His black gloves dropped to the ground.  His wand fell with a rosewood thud.  Next his cloak, discarded in crumpled abandon.  And finally the Death Eater mask, staring up at him to crown the pile. 

He stared back at it, hating it. Those hollow eyes had seen his every sin but never did they offer salvation.

He tried to steady the quiver in his hands.

A sound from the top of the stairs made him look up. Maybe there _was_ salvation…

A thin, white-blonde figure stood motionless, her pallid-blue gaze settling on him.  Regulus forced a smile which she never returned.

'Come upstairs' she commanded.

He nodded up at her before she disappeared from sight.  He could hear her moving across the floorboards in the bedroom.

The young Death Eater rushed to the kitchen, and hurried to pour out a generous measure of malt whisky into a goblet.  It shook violently in his hands as he downed the spirit in one.

The whisky would have to help construct a new façade, and fast.  Because he was about to relive it all again, because the only thing he could do to make his Narcissa happy was to tell her every final detail of the absolute terror, death and agonising cruelty that the Death Eaters had inflicted tonight.

Regulus moved back down the hall and hesitated at the foot of the staircase.  He stooped and picked up the bundle and the mask, before heading upstairs to the only reason all this was worthwhile.

*

Narcissa opened a tired eye to the cold morning, and manoeuvred free of the annoyance of Regulus's arm.  She wrapped herself tight in the soft blankets, so no part of him remained touching her as he slept silently behind her.

The tenderness between her thighs served as an unforgiving reminder of another night spent trying to lose herself in her cousin's frantic grasp.

She flinched, her mind sick and her heart hollow.  Blurred memories of last night stabbed at her consciousness…

_…'Tell me, Regulus' she says, sultrily.  Tell me and I'll let you.' She towers above him in a small skirt and knee-high boots while he kneels before her on the bedroom floor._

_She unfastens the last button on her shirt and flicks the expensive garment aside, standing statuesque in a delicate deep-crimson and black bra, never breaking her eye contact with the Death Eater._

_He murmurs something.  She notices he is quivering.  She smirks, as power surges inside her chest._

_'Louder, Regulus' she demands, stalking slowly towards him and stopping right in front of him._

_He reaches forward to touch her thigh under her skirt, but she catches his hand mid-air and pushed it roughly away._

_'Two brothers' he quakes.  'Central Somerset.'_

_'I'm not interested in geography' she snaps, circling him slowly._

_'OK…I…'_

_'Come on!' she hisses dangerously, and slams her knee hard into his chest, so he falls back onto the floor._

_He stares up at her through a haze of infatuated awe, aroused beyond return._

_'The older one saw Bellatrix and he knew…he knew he was going to die…'_

_'Did he beg to live?  Did he beg?' _

_'Begged and cried…'  Regulus pushes himself upright again._

_'And what then…'_

_'Bellatrix…hit the guy's brother instead…with Avada…'_

_Narcissa moves a hand under her skirt so Regulus can see the deep red and black satin of her underwear.  His eyes flicker there, and he finds new resolve.  'The guy started sobbing…pleading to be spared…crawling on the floor amongst the filth where he belonged…'_

_Narcissa smiles malevolently and allows him to kiss her stomach, still from his kneeling position before her._

_He takes her hand and pulls her down in front of him. He kisses her throat, his hand moving to her breasts, but again she grabs his forearm before it makes contact._

_She leans forward and traps him in a hard kiss he feels her soft tongue as her grip tightens around the Dark Mark.  She wrenches away from him._

_'And what did you do, Regulus?' she murmurs into his ear, taking a wisp of his black hair gently between her fingers.  He is breathless, but has to continue._

_'I made him scream with my Cruciatus' he lies, 'and then he didn't want to live anymore.  He begged to die instead.'_

_Narcissa's eyes sparkle.  Her hand is painfully tight around his forearm, but for the moment she is appeased, and finally allows him to touch her…_

Narcissa shivered and made herself as small as she could under the sheets, trying to kill the mess of lust and revulsion that fought inside her every day.

Regulus.  The deluded fool.

He thought she slept with him because she was in love with him, like he so obviously and pathetically was with her. He thought she wanted to hear every tiny thing about the Death Eaters because she was so proud of him, just like his parents were.

He was wrong.

All he was doing was providing her with a window into the life of a person far away, someone who had left two years ago, and someone she was failing to both forget and replace.

*

The Bulgarian night lit up with intermittent flashes of green as Antonin Dolohov ran back through the bushes trying to remember which way he had come from.  He tried to head for the area underneath the green light, but, sweaty and panicking, it was far more difficult than he had imagined.  

He looked back, and could see the small army of approaching Aurors.  He veered to the right in the long grasses, and narrowly avoided falling as he stumbled over a tree root.  He rounded the next corner, dishevelled and gasping, and found the clearing. 

Shouts pierced the air accompanied by screams of pain and wails of misery.  The ground was littered with Muggle bodies and Dolohov had to leap over them to get to the middle of the shadowy glade where the Death Eaters were standing.  

Malfoy, always so strict about security, had a muggle man by the throat, but wore no hood or mask to conceal his identity.  

Karkaroff was screaming at him to put his cloak back on as Dolohov approached.

'Malfoy, for God's sake!  Here!  He hasn't time to be obliviated!'

'Avada Kedavra!' yelled Malfoy, hitting the man square with the curse that killed him instantly.  'Had time to die though, didn't he?' he sneered.

'No, look!' gasped Karkaroff, pointing behind Dolohov.  'Aurors!'

Dolohov gasped as he arrived in front of Malfoy.  

'Aurors…gotta…go…now!' he panted.

Karkaroff disapparated in panic, but Malfoy strode over to the last muggle, who lay cowering in terror in the grass to one side.

'We leave when the job is done' he growled, seizing the teenage boy and squeezing his throat hard.

Dolohov whirled round.

'Malfoy!  Come on!' he shouted, as he grabbed Lucius's arm and tried to pull him from the muggle.  But Malfoy turned and glared at Dolohov, who let go immediately, seeing the searing evil in Malfoy's intense grey eyes.

'Touch me again and you're next.'  

Dolohov backed away, and saw a flash of silver as Malfoy took something from his pocket.  The next moment, the muggle was bleeding and convulsing in the grass as Malfoy stepped over the body and held his arms up to Dolohov as he walked towards him, so he could see the filthy impure blood all over his gloveless hands.

Dolohov stared at Malfoy as he approached, feeling a thrill of fear at the maniacal look in his eyes, and marvelling at how far Malfoy was going on each mission to outdo the last.  Tonight's simple muggle-torture expedition had resulted in sixteen murders.

Dolohov grabbed Malfoy and pulled him into the bushes as the group of Aurors rounded the corner, staring in disbelief at what they found.  

'Disapparate, Malfoy!  Now!'

'No. Wait!'  He mumbled something and a huge green jet surged into the air, before the two disappeared with a loud cracking sound.

The Dark Mark cast deep shadows over the terrified Aurors as they gazed skyward among the slaughter, quaking and useless under the malevolent glare.

*

It had been getting clearer all day.   He had tried to ignore it, hoping it was just his increasingly paranoid imagination, but by early evening, Regulus was back in the bathroom, hunched shivering over the searing shape on his left forearm.  

He had dressed tentatively, and that night, appeared in the doorway of the dimly lit living room.  He was pale, nauseous and terrified, and when he saw Narcissa had fallen asleep on the sofa, he felt relief that she wouldn't witness him like this.

Regulus knelt down beside his cousin where she slept.  The back of his quivering hand softly stroked her delicate white cheek.  

What choice did he have?  If he didn't keep this up, he might face life without her.  And he'd rather keep facing death.

He remembered back when they were at school, accidentally coming across her and _him_, in the common room one night.  _His_ Narcissa, sitting on that slimy Durmstrang transfer student.  She had her back to her cousin, she was kissing Lucius Malfoy, and Malfoy had opened a grey eye, and smirked mockingly at Regulus, who had rushed from the room in revulsion and humiliation.

He remembered afterwards, standing alone, shivering in that chilled Slytherin bathroom, just a thin, dark seventeen-year-old staring into his own reflection.  The agony he was feeling shone undiluted from his bright blue stare.

Regulus had closed his eyes as tight as he could, but still could see, nothing but white-blonde hair and pureblood beauty.  

He hated, envied, their mutual obsession, mutual narcissism…Malfoy looked in a mirror, saw himself, saw Narcissa, Narcissa looked in the same glass, saw herself, and Lucius.

Regulus surveyed his own mirror…what did he see?

No one. Nothing.  Just him.  Alone.  No blond.  Just Black.

He slammed his fist into the reflection, smashing the image into sharp shards.  His dark blood dribbled slow rivers down the polished glass and gathered eventually in a crimson pool of jealousy, obsession and pain.

How could he go back to that?  He leaned forward and closed his eyes, resting his face close to Narcissa's as she silently slept.

When he opened his eyes again, the decision had been made.  He kissed her on the cheek and rose slowly to his feet.  He grabbed the Death Eater mask and black gloves from the table.

The Dark Mark was burning and he had to go.  

*

Later, in the very small hours, when dawn had not yet begun to stir, Regulus stumbled back into the house, wrenching his cloak to the ground, casting the gloves off and hurling the mask against the wall, not noticing how it cracked when it bounced off the hard marble.

He struggled upstairs, trying to swallow away the sour taste of vomit that lingered in the back of his throat.

He crept past the four-poster and hurried into the adjoining bathroom as silently as he could, but reached the sink only just in time before the choking sickness seized him once again.

When it was over, he splashed water onto his pallid, clammy face, and washed his hands over and over and over again. 

And then he stopped, and could fight the visions of evil no longer.  He crumpled slowly to the cold floor, where he started to sob, his pitiful head sinking into his hands, his mind sinking into despair.

As strangled sounds of sorrow carried through the night into the comfort of the moonlit bedchamber, Narcissa's pale eyes opened in the darkness.


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters featured in this or any other chapter, they belong to JK Rowling.

Rated R for sexual situations, violent situations and general adult themes.

DESCENT

****

Chapter Two

Narcissa awoke before Regulus, and took a moment to recall last night's chilling memory.  She had never seen or heard a man cry before.  It had unsettled her.  She had lain next to her cousin for two years.  And perhaps she did not know him at all.  She thought back to the first time.  The first time she had let him…

_Regulus bursts through the front door and flees across the moonlit grass, wild panic tearing at him.  As he runs he makes a thousand deals with God, just to save her, just to find her unharmed._

_He reaches the bottom of the Black estate, where there is dense woodland and a derelict gatehouse tower that stands alone on the edge, as if it were itself a guardian of the lives behind it._

_He finds the rotting door open and his stomach lurches with cold horror.   The blackness inside is living, breathing, thick and suffocating. He has fumbled for his wand but it is gone. He shouts her name as he gropes for the spiral staircase, he stumbles and finds the first step.  On all fours, slowly, he crawls through the darkness, calling her, but finds nothing but his own echo._

_He reaches the first level, and stands, and searches.  He can't remember the layout of the place, but knows there is no access to the decaying second and third floors.  He inches back to the steps, and continues his climb, further up into fear._

_Past the forbidden second floor, he calls to her again, and continues on, towards the rooftop.  But the stairs stretch longer than he recalls, he is afraid, and perhaps should turn back, his heart is quaking, foreboding is swallowing him, and he feels…_

_'Out of your depth, Regulus?'  A cool voice from the darkness._

_'Narcissa…?'_

_A white light appears at the top of the stairs ahead of him, and illuminates a ghostly, tired, beautiful face, white-blonde hair around her shoulders, a lost look in her eyes._

_'Come to save me, have you?'_

_'I've been frantic, you've been missing for hours! Are you alright?'_

_'Regulus…stay a while…' she says in her low provocative tone, before moving out of sight, plunging him into black once again._

_'Narcissa?  Where are you?  Come back!'_

_'Third floor, Regulus…'  _

_He crawls up to where she had been, and finds her sitting against the wall in a slice of moonlight.  _

_'But…this is forbidden…' he attempts._

_She gives a wicked laugh._

_'Forbidden is just a state of mind, made for those too afraid to try.'_

_He walks apprehensively towards her and kneels in front of her.  He spies a half-empty bottle of Bulgarian vodka next to her._

_'Narcissa, why do you do these things to yourself?'  he says quietly, shaking his head because he knows the answer._

_Her eyes shimmer with angry tears, and she hits him hard in the face, her hand trembling._

_'Save your judgement!  I don't need it' she hisses._

_ He moves his hand to the searing sting where she struck him, and cannot tear his eyes from her as she sits here now, raw and honest and hurting.  He tries to conceal his hard, obvious arousal by remaining in the shadows.  He finally sees the real Narcissa._

_'Take it out on me' he murmurs, never breaking eye contact._

_'Is that what you want?'  She crawls towards him slowly._

_'Yes' he whispers._

_'Am I what you want?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'Say it!' _

_'I want you!  You're all I ever wanted, you know you are!'_

_She stops inches from his face, and smiles, breathing shallow, half in the shadows, half in the silver from the sky._

_'You know Regulus…you can touch me.  If you want to…'_

_His eyes flicker to the shirt stretched tight across her breasts._

_'Narcissa.'_

_'I know you want to…everybody does…'_

_She takes his hand gently, never moving her eyes from his, and Regulus gasps as she pushes his hand beneath her shirt, onto her warm breast._

_'Nar-_

_'I've seen the way you look at me…I know I'm what you think about…when you touch yourself…' she whispers. _

_She is gambling but is certain she will win.  She has seen Bellatrix take men apart and destroy them before.  And now she has a prime candidate of her own._

_He flushes, pulls his hand away, and looks at the floor._

_'Narcissa, sometimes I think you're pure evil…'_

_She smiles and a flash of cruelty sears through her.  She kneels in front of him and she flicks open her shirt buttons one by one.  Her other hand slides up her thin, smooth thigh and under her skirt, as she watches him watching her, he is barely breathing._

_'Well, I'm certainly pure…' she says, and he stares at her small white cotton underwear as her fingers dance around it's edges, daring him to look, mocking his desire.  'But as for evil…that's between me and the Devil…'_

_Her fingers disappear underneath the lace of her knickers._

_'Narcissa, I beg you not to do this…'_

_He feels himself being drawn into some deadly trap, playing victim to Narcissa's predator, but he is powerless against the siren's song.  If he must die on the rocks…_

_'Come on Regulus…break the cycle…' she drawls softly, a half-smile has settled on her pale features._

_'You know how I, you know how much I…' _

_'Do you want me to stop?' _

_She moves onto her hands and knees and crawls close to him.  Her lips brush his ear as she squeezes between his legs and whispers…_

_'What is it, Regulus?  What is it you wanna do to me?'_

_He lurches at her and she meets his hard urgent kiss, smiling triumphantly at her own power.  The weight of his body pins her on her to the wood floor as they fall backwards.  His kiss is sharper, quicker, not as intense as Lucius, but her stomach clutches with excitement as she tastes her own, perfect Black bloodline.  _

_He moves down her body with his kisses, fumbling her shirt open and stops, breathless at the top of her skirt.  _

_'I've wanted you for so long, Narcissa' he gasps._

_She raises a barely-interested eyebrow and stares outside as he slides down her knickers, but gives an unexpected gasp as she feels his tongue. She breathes deep and closes her eyes to the moon, while all thoughts of Lucius are drowned in vodka and the desperate touch of her cousin…_

This is how she has made herself survive.  

But if Regulus cries, it is because there is something wrong.  And no weakness of his will bring her family to it's knees.

*

Early evening settled silently on Sofiya as candles were lit on the top floors of expensive dwellings and drapes were pulled shut against the imminent night.

Lucius sat with a single malt, in the window of his large, luxurious town house situated in the most privileged quarter of the city.  

He liked to sit here, watching the servants and occasional weekend businessperson scuttle through the cold streets, attending to the demands of whichever branch of the Bulgarian aristocracy they served or hurrying to put in an appearance somewhere they desperately didn't want to go.

That would be his job, tonight.  Another appearance.  The Bulgarian Ministry had been particularly insistent that he attend tonight's event, although he could not see why, as it seemed to him it was going to be just another evening of tedious small talk and pointless platitudes.

He sighed quietly to himself, surveying the pile of legal papers marked 'Norodna Republika Bulgaria' that had been amassing on his desk ever since he had been dragged back here because of Andrei and his infinite greed.

He had sat at that very desk, young, bewildered and alone, while some Ministry lawyer explained every last detail of the proceedings that had been initiated, the proceedings that had meant he had to leave the UK immediately, even having to sit his final exams back at Durmstrang.

The lawyer had sat, heaped an enormous folder onto the desk and broke the news.

_'Lucius Malfoy…son of Alexander and Reika…you are of British citizenship but attended the Durmstrang Institute here in Bulgaria from age eleven until your parents died prematurely when you were aged sixteen…correct?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'At which point you were transferred to Hogwarts School in the United Kingdom where you had an aunt on your mothers side who became your appointed guardian…correct?'_

_'Yes.'_

_'And now, you have been asked to return here.  I assume you're wondering why.  Lucius,  your eighteenth birthday two days ago means you are now in a position to claim your inheritance.  This includes the entirety of your parent's assets both here and in the UK.  The Will clearly stated that you were to be the sole beneficiary.  However. A challenge has been mounted under section 2 of the Inheritance (Provision for Family and Dependants Act) 1975 by an applicant named Andrei Malfoy._

_'That's my uncle.'_

'It seems before he died, your father was making regular payments to Andrei, of which he has provided the Ministry with documentary evidence.  But no provision has been made for him in the Will.  His application under section 2 is on the grounds basically that the transfer of the inheritance to you in accordance with the Will is not such as to make reasonable financial provision for him.'  

_'So…he's trying to get my money…and the money tied up in the properties.'_

_'Some of it, yes.'_

_'Well.  You'd just better stop him, hadn't you.'_

Lucius sighed and finished the whisky. Here he was two years later.  Still in Bulgaria. Still fighting Andrei.  And there was still no way he was going to get so much as a sickle.  The only reason Lucius's father had been making those payments was to make sure Andrei stayed in the mountains and did not drag the Malfoy name through the mud with his penchant for high-stakes gambling and low-class women.  His father should have just had him killed.

Lucius stood, and straightened his tie in the mirror.  He approached the door and reached for the door handle, but stopped in his tracks as he was ambushed by images of his life before all this.  The most intense vision was at the same time his most despised…  

_…The thin silhouette running ahead, halts and turns to him, with a teasing flick of her white-blonde hair. She has stopped on the edge of the Forbidden Forest._

_'Would you follow me…' she breathes, 'would you walk in dark places with me…'_

She disappears into the trees as he reaches her.

_He follows, and she is not fast enough because he catches her and pushes her gently up against a tree._

_'I'd walk anywhere…' he softly drawls as he starts to kiss the side of her neck.  'Because everyone thinks Bellatrix is the most wicked of all the Black sisters…'_

_She smiles in the darkness, and her hand slides down his body and moves into the top of his trousers inside his underwear._

_'But it's been you all along, hasn't it…' he whispers, before meeting her in a kiss in the darkness…_

Lucius pushed the visions away as hard as he could, and jerked open the door, slamming it behind him with force that shook the whole building.

*

Later that night, after a bout of particularly heavy drinking at the Ministry event, Malfoy wrenched the hotel room door open in a furious alcoholic passion, the silver keys falling unnoticed to the floor.  He stumbled to the mini-bar and poured some finest Bulgarian whisky into a glass, not caring that most of it slopped onto the polished surface.

The tall, dark-haired Rania stalked into the room after him, kicking the door closed behind her.  Hands on her hips, she surveyed Malfoy, who was doing his best to drain the glass as quickly as possible.

'Lucius' she commanded, in a thick Bulgarian accent.  'Do not be getting too drunk, now.  I am needing you in full…working…order…' 

Lucius hurled the glass to the floor, smashing it into a thousand crystal droplets.

'You obviously don't know me so very well, Miss Rania…'  he snarled, as he stormed towards her and pushed her violently backwards against the wardrobes.  She gave a wicked laugh, and reached a clawed hand for him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him roughly up against her.

'So fuck me, blond British boy…' she growled into his ear, as he tore her shirt open and roughly grasped her breasts beneath.  

He ripped her underwear away and took her right there, up against the cupboards.  She squealed with pleasure and tried to kiss him, but he turned his head away from her.  

Memories he had tried so hard to bury were jarring loose from their restraints, his resistance weakened by over-priced vodka and Ministry champagne.

A whisper in the dark, forbidden touches in schoolyard shadows… 

Rania grabbed at him like some wild animal, her claws digging into the back of his neck, he squeezed his eyes closed tight.

A trail of ties and skirts and shirts, then white-blonde hair spread across grass under a summer sky and a promise that it didn't have to end…

He slammed Rania harder against the doors, she gave a triumphant yell.

A promise that lay as shattered and broken as the crystal glass he had hurled to the ground…

Lust dissolved quickly into revulsion with his few last desperate movements.  The second it was over, he left Rania sliding to the floor as he turned from her, and fought to fasten his clothing.

She moved to the bed and slid contentedly on top of it, reaching for one of her strong-smelling cigarettes.

Lucius stood, his back to her, and bent to pick a handful of the shattered glass from the floor.  He crouched, staring at it as he savagely crushed it tight in his pale hand, tiny splinters and deep-red droplets falling to the floor as he forced himself to bleed.

Rania saw he was meaning to leave.

'Where are you going to?  It is so late…Will you not stay?'

He stood, and let the remaining glass fall from his lacerated palm.

'No' he opened the door.  'I won't.  And I expect you to stay away from me in the future.'

He slammed the door, and slogged out into the frozen night, taking only a murderous headache and heart full of emptiness with him.


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters featured in this or any other chapter, they belong to JK Rowling.

Rated R for sexual situations, violent situations and general adult themes.

DESCENT

Chapter Three 

Regulus sat on the four-poster bed, feeling the foundations of his world crumbling around him.  Everywhere he looked was black with horror, even inside his mind pulsed with the suffocating evil of what he had become. There were no options any more.  There were only varying degrees of agony as he slowly drowned in a filthy sucking swamp of sin and terror.  

Narcissa paused a moment before she entered the room.  It was time to act.  To decide.   She approached quietly and stopped in front of him, questions flickering in her eyes.

'Regulus.  You don't look well…'

'I'm not well.  I'm so, so _sick_.'

She blinked at him.

'What is it?' she asked tentatively, her heart quickening.

He gazed up at her, she saw the tears waiting behind his eyes.

'It's over, Narcissa…'

'Over?'  

'I…I've got myself in a mess…somewhere along the line…I've gotten lost…'

'Do you mean-

'The Death Eaters…I can't...' his voice wavered dangerously as he battled the emotion  wrenching in his throat.  'Not any more.'

Narcissa stared down at him.  He shook his dark head, his bright blue eyes wide, appealing to her like a terrified child.  'If I have to go again…' his voice broke and a teardrop escaped, which he smeared away with a shaking hand. 'Don't make me go again…'

The illicit knowledge that had been growing in her like a poisoned embryo had finally broken the surface.  But as he sat before her, here, now, in the daylight, and said the words out loud, Regulus was not the only one who felt fear.

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes, taking a shaky breath.

'They were so happy, when I told them, Narcissa…you should have seen the pride in my father's face, the joy in my mother's eyes…and you.  I know you know the importance of purity.  But I can't do it. I can't keep paying for my beliefs with all this blood.  Please don't make me go again…'

'Regulus, how long…?'

'An eternity.  It started not long after He scarred me with this.' He pulled his shirt sleeve up and brandished the twisted shape of the Dark Mark at her.  'It's supposed to call you, drive you, _enflame_ you.  But all it does is burn.'  Another tear dropped onto his knee.

Narcissa sat down next to him on the bed.  She was trembling, as excitement she had thought she would never feel again awakened from a deep sleep inside her.

'I can try and make my mind forget what they made me do.  But my soul will always be stained by it…And I kept going there for you…And now…you're going to leave me' he quaked, his voice now nothing but a pained whimper.

Regulus slumped forward, his head in his hands.

Narcissa thought fast. She gazed out of the leaded window into the cold English sky.  The sprawling future sits in my small, pale, manicured hand, like the tiniest hummingbird in the claws of a dragon.

Kill.  Or cure.

Narcissa took Regulus's thin, quivering hand in hers

'Regulus' she whispered, shaking her head slowly, stroking strands of hair from his face that were stuck there with tears.

'You…?' he stammered, almost inaudibly.

'It's alright.'  She moved close to him and kissed his handsome face, as pale and aristocratically beautiful as her own.  She tasted the saltwater despair on his cheek, and then held him close in an embrace, feeling him holding on to her tightly.

'I love you, Narcissa.'

Over his shoulder, her eyes were glazed and staring, as the corner of her mouth twitched with the suggestion of a smile.  Inside her head was filled with ecstatic visions of a future she had thought lost.  And she reached for it.

*

As the next morning breezed in through the elaborate curtain drapes of the study, Regulus looked into the sunlight and felt it warm on his skin.  He had not noticed the seasons changing around him over the last year or so, but now he smelled the new life in the garden as it carried in on the honeysuckle breeze, and he breathed deep with happiness.  Undoubtedly there were troubled times ahead, and his heart was tired of hurting all the time.  But as he sat here, in the midst of a beautiful day, with the taste of Narcissa's kiss still in his mouth, he felt that everything would be alright.  He picked up his quill and began to write.

Sirius,

I know how you've felt about the choices I've made in my life. Most of them dark and wrong and black.  But please believe me when I tell you that I've seen the future and it's a different colour.

I've made the decision to end my involvement with the Death Eaters.  The things I have seen, the things I have been asked to do.  I have been sick and afraid every waking hour for so long now, I barely remember what I used to be.

I don't know what my backing out will spell for me, so I have decided to leave the country, at least for a while, until the whole thing calms down.  

Also, I realise you don't approve of me being with Narcissa.  But, as much as it surprised me at first, she's happy about my decision and is going to come with me.  Sirius, if you just knew her like I do, you'd understand.  And I wouldn't be with her if I didn't trust her with my life.

I'm going to owl mum and dad with the news.  I know they're going to be disappointed, but I've made my decision and believe it to be the right one.

Keep well, Sirius, I hope to return to better times.

Regulus

*

Lucius barged his way through the Saturday night rabble towards the bar tender.  He despised Sofiya almost as much as he had despised muggle-infested London, with it's swarming filth and absent standards.  He felt a pang of something he had not felt in a while; a quiet, but overwhelming desire to be back in Wiltshire, immersed in the serene, spacious affluence of middle-England.  

But the memory of his late parent's manor conjured further nostalgia, things he was not going to allow himself to explore here.

Anger erupted within him as he was jostled by some unseen body, and loud, coarse Bulgarian voices rang out around his head.

When he finally reached the bar, he shot a disgusted look at the ragged hordes behind him, and muttered something under his breath.  

No sooner had he turned back to the bar, when he felt a rough hand on his shoulder which spun him around.

'Get your filthy-'

But the next he knew he was on the floor, a mass of bodies blurring before his eyes.  Stunned, he struggled to find what had happened, but that soon became clear with the rush of pain in his head and the blood dripping onto the floor in front of him.  

It seemed some obscenities transcended the language barrier.

Grabbing the nearest table, Malfoy began to pull himself up, but then someone kicked him hard in the ribs, and he collapsed back onto the floor, rolling onto his back gasping to breathe.

Through the blood  smeared in his eyes, he saw a dark figure reach for him, and he was jerked roughly up by his collars.  

'Get off me!' he choked, before he was hit hard in the face, and then nothingness.

Doormen waded in and parted the crowd, stepping over Lucius's unconscious body slumped on the filthy floor while his pure Malfoy blood pooled amongst the dirt and grime of the worn floorboards.

The men dispersed the trouble and calmed the customers, and eventually two of them crouched to Malfoy and dragged him outside.  But as they tried to revive him, they did not notice the snake in the mouth of the skull searing black on his left forearm, sending out a summons that would not be answered.

*

Lucius awoke with a jolt, and lay still for a moment, trying to decipher the unfamiliar ceiling. Then spikes of pain in his head and waves of raw tenderness wrenched him agonisingly into the present.

Different memories all clamoured at once for his attention; stuck in a packed bar in the city, struggling against teeming filth, getting hit by some common criminal… 

Wanting to go home.

He stood, unsteady on his feet, and approached the barred cell door. He tried to see down the dank corridor, but there was no one around, not even a guard.  Another example of the judicial failings of this godforsaken country.

He slumped back down onto the mouldering bunk, as he felt a twinge of fading pain in his forearm. Dark waters of dread began to gather and swirl in the depths of his heart.  If he had  missed another calling for the Death Eaters…this could barely look worse.

His white-blond head dropped forward into his hands.  Nothing like waking up to a brand new low.  

Lucius sighed and lay his aching body back on the iron-framed bed, pulling the thick, scratchy wool blanket over him.  He was exhausted.  Despair coursed through him as he gazed up through the tiny barred arch-window above, trying to focus on the waning starlight outside.  

His last night in Britain had looked like this.  The last night he had spent next to Narcissa.

Are you seeing these stars right now?  Or don't you even look anymore?

There had not been much talking, or much of anything, except gazing until they had both fallen asleep, together for the last time.  Her tears had felt damp on his white shirt, and the transparent patch they made had remained until daybreak, when he had awoken alone.

Do you cry anymore?

He closed his eyes.

No.  Never.  Not for me.  If you could see me now, you'd wish you'd never wasted your tears.

Aching, bruised and drowning in self-hatred, Lucius reached out to the forbidden box of memories, the only thing left in his mind that was not pulsing with hate.

His arm slid under the blanket, and he spent another dark night alone in a dark place imagining his hand was her…

_Shadows dance on their pale skin as they move in the candlelight, a tangle of crumpled school uniform, white-blond hair and damp desire._

_Narcissa's forearm tenses as she grips hard onto the back of the chair, taking him deeper inside her as she sits astride him, her other hand resting on his chest where his white shirt is open.  His hand under her t-shirt grasps at her breasts, resistance coming as skin moves over pale skin, sticky with sweat, the palm of his other hand on her small naked bottom under her short school skirt.  _

Strands of pale hair stick to her angular pureblood face, she moves on him, an almost invisible strand of saliva stretches and breaks between them as they part from a deep kiss.  

_He shifts slightly taking her harder, and she murmurs before her mouth meets his again, addicted to the way he tastes, of vodka, Durmstrang and power…_

Lucius let out one quiet gasp in the darkness, and it was over.  He looked at the warm damp on the grimy sheet and felt sickened with himself.

He moved away from the bed, as far as he could get in the tiny cell, and stood against the partition.  As he slowly slid his back down the wall, memories of his personal descent since arriving here jeered at him from the gateway that held his nightmares.  He hit the floor and  could sink no lower.

He lay, empty on the cold, filthy floor, his exhausted gaze fixed on an anonymous constellation he could see through the barred window.  He gave in, and felt himself slipping away, into dreams he no longer had the strength to fight.

*

Narcissa gazed into the dark air, the twinkle of a group of stars reflected in her palest-blue eyes. Nerves flickered in her stomach. But strength encircled her in the form of a misty recollection, a whisper in her mind, a reassuring drawl…

'You decide who you are.'

She took a calming breath and strode into the dead building, where she waited in a shadowy hallway.  She did not wait long.

The double doors in front of her opened slowly, into a room full of gloom and green shadows.

She felt a small glimmer of panic, but caught it and forced it away, lifting her perfect chin and standing up tall.

She strode inside, and stopped at the end of a long polished table, with chairs enough for thirty.  At the other end was a large, ornately carved throne-like seat, where a figure sat, his features obscured by blackness.  A huge serpent lay on the floor behind him, gliding slowly over the coils of it's own glistening body.

The doors banged closed behind her and an echo faded into the dank air.

'Narcissa Black.  Welcome.'  A low voice, measured and steady.

Narcissa bowed her head.

'I'm much obliged, My Lord.'

'May I first offer my thanks to you, Narcissa. For your most enlightening correspondence.  Your information has proven to be of very great interest to me, very great interest indeed.  And it does certainly appear that we have something of a problem on our hands.'

'Yes my Lord.  I felt it was imperative that you be informed immediately.'

The Dark Lord nodded in the shadows, as the snake twisted slowly around the chair leg.

'Absolutely right, Narcissa.  But every problem has it's solution.  I have long being planning to recall a servant of mine to my side.  Personal business affairs and certain tasks in my service have kept him for too long in the black mountains of Bulgaria.  He has grown weary there.  Igor Karkaroff has brought it to my attention that certain standards are starting to slip, what with certain instances of self-destructive behaviour, lack of attendance and the like…'

Something in Narcissa faltered.  But she maintained her steady gaze.

'Lucius Malfoy' she whispered, feeling a jolt of nervous energy as she heard herself uttering the name that had burned inside her head every day for all this time.

'That's right.'  She heard a smile in his voice.  'I feel the time may have come to bring him home.  I will despatch an envoy to him, and we'll take care of his little inheritance quandary.  And then we'll just make sure we can still rely on his…loyalty.'

Narcissa gazed into the darkness.

'My Lord…is he…I mean, is everything…alright?'

She saw a flash of red in the darkness as the light caught his eyes.

'It will be.  When my Death Eater proves to me that he is still worthy of serving our cause.  Igor Karkaroff is placed to head the Bulgarian contingent. Antonin Dolohov will assist.  Lucius Malfoy will return to me and he will execute the vermin infidel Regulus Black.'


	4. Chapter four: The End

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters featured in this or any other chapter, they belong to JK Rowling.

Rated R for sexual situations, violent situations and general adult themes.

DESCENT

Chapter Four: The End

The underground Bar Zlatka was dimly lit by red candles which stood atop each large black metal table, and phials filled with murky-green liquid made eerie humming sounds that permeated the air weaving a heavy spell of malevolence.

Lucius sat at a dark table in the corner, his head in his hands, the mysterious parchment that had ordered his presence here rolled up in front of him. He was so tired he couldn't think straight.  All down the right side of his body ached horribly, where he had been beaten.  He thought his hand was probably fractured, his face was bruised, his mind was in pieces, he had failed in his obligations to the Bulgarian Death Eaters, his uncle was trying to rob him of everything that was rightly his and he had spent last weekend languishing in a filthy Bulgarian jail cell…

A glass banged down onto the table in front of him.

'Drink that,' ordered the dark, beautiful woman, 'it might help you get a grip.'

Malfoy looked at her miserably, then eyed the weird-looking potion.

'Well?  Are you going to tell me why you've come here or not?' he growled.

Bellatrix Black sat down opposite and appraised him, her head on one side.

'I've been sent to solve all your problems,' she said.

'Ha!  Well, you'll be here a bloody long time then, won't you!'  Malfoy snatched up the drink and almost choked as he swallowed the fiery spirit in one.

Bellatrix sighed patiently, as though dealing with a petulant child, and waited for him to calm.  

'The Dark Lord has become increasingly concerned about your focus, and quite frankly, I'm not surprised, ' she said, after a moment.

'Look, Bellatrix,' spat Malfoy, rising abruptly, rage seething in his eyes, 'I am as competent as any of one of you, and whatever may have happened to me, I have never been anything but loyal!'

'Sit down!' she hissed, slamming her hand down on the table.  He obeyed, but glowered at her and folded his arms huffily.  'And you can stop bloody well sulking, Malfoy!  There's only a problem here if you make one!'

'Look, I only missed a few-'

'He knows about it all.'

'May I ask how?  Oh, let me guess, _Karkaroff_, that filthy snitching-'  

'It doesn't matter! Really, Lucius!  What was it you used to say?  About doing what Malfoys did?  Something about if you fall, you get the hell back up and you knock someone else down?  Where's all that now?'

'I really don't think-'

'Shut up!  Listen!  You're being recalled.  You have to go back to the UK immediately.'

'Bellatrix, I would like nothing better, but in case you hadn't noticed, I'm fighting legal proceedings.  I'm not giving up half my inheritance for anyone.'

'Well, if you'd listen a minute and stop feeling so damn sorry for yourself!  Your little inheritance problem has been dealt with.  Look.'

She slid a smallish box over the tabletop towards him, which he eyed suspiciously, but seeing the look on her face, thought he'd better open it.  He recoiled as the rotting smell hit him and gaped at what lay bleeding inside.

'Right…'  He stared from the box to Bellatrix, a mixture of revulsion and disbelief in his face.

Bellatrix was brimming with pride, her eyes shining with glee.

'Yeah.  I told him I'd hack his other hand off as well, if he didn't contact the Ministry immediately and drop the case!'

'Forgive me, Bellatrix, but what if the Ministry think I've done this?  I won't need an inheritance if I'm rotting in Azkaban, will I?'

'You underestimate the Dark Lord.  And you underestimate me.  There's no way Andrei will say anything, not after what Rosier and I did to him.  He was grateful to escape with his life and most of his body parts.  And as for the Ministry, well, I made sure you were well-seen in attendance at that last little soiree of theirs in Sofiya.  You couldn't have been in Varna, torturing your uncle at the same time, could you. Alibi.  See?'

Malfoy nodded, slowly.

'Well.  What can I say?  I owe you my thanks,' he said, feeling somewhat off-guard, 'I can't quite believe this is happening.  I can really return home?'

'Yes.  There's just one more thing. Call it a 'gesture'.  To reinforce the Dark Lord's confidence in you.  A task.  That 'someone else' that you have to knock down.  It's my cousin.'

*

Regulus arrived home carrying a bundle of Narcissa's possessions from her father's manor.  He was excited about this evening, when the two of them would leave the country and head for a lighter, warmer, safer place.

Most of the packing had been finished, and the house was empty, but for a medium-sized eagle owl perched on the back of the chair in the study.

Perhaps it was a reply from Sirius.  But as he got closer,Regulus saw it was not Sirius's owl, but a more familiar one.  He gently unfastened the parchment from the bird's leg and unrolled it.  It smelled of honeysuckle and Narcissa.  

My dearest Regulus,

Before we leave England for however long it may turn out to be, I thought we could spend our last night the way we spent our first.

Humour me, Regulus.  Allow me some sentiment.  And I will follow you anywhere.

Come to the gatehouse tower at the bottom of my parent's estate, tonight at eleven.  And bring some champagne.  I feel cause for celebration.

All my love

Narcissa

Regulus smiled and wandered contentedly towards the cellar, carried by drifting thoughts of the future, of white-blonde caresses and whispered promises.  

*

When the clock struck eleven, Regulus stood alone at the foot of the gatehouse tower on the dark edge of the Black estate.  He pushed the door open and began to make his ascent, the champagne in one hand, his wand glowing with lumos in the other.  His hair was trimmed immaculately, he was dressed handsomely, in his smartest shirt and tie, and there had been resurrected a flush of life in his cheeks that had been dead for months.

He could smell her perfume as he reached the third floor, and as he poked his head around the door, he caught sight of her, sitting among cushions on the floor behind a single white candle.

She looked up, already smiling.  He did not move, so he could capture her in his mind, and whenever he closed his eyes, this is what he wanted to see.  She looked changed.  Her eyes were dancing with life, her cheeks were flushed pink and she seemed so slightly breathless.

'You look absolutely stunning,' he said, returning her smile.

She stood and walked towards him, beautiful in a simple black dress.  She kissed him on the cheek.

'Come to the roof with me,' she said, taking his hand and leading him slowly back to the stairs.

When they reached the top, Narcissa opened the door for him and Regulus walked out into the warm air under a canopy of stars.  

There was a single black iron chair in the centre of the rooftop.

'What's that there for?' asked Regulus.

'Sit down,' smouldered Narcissa, moving her hands onto his chest and gently pushing him backwards.

He placed the champagne on the ground then sat obediently, half-smiling when she knelt in front of him, between his knees.  She moved her hands slowly over his thighs, and he gave a slight gasp when her hand slid into his pocket, and touched him through the fabric.  She smirked, and moved her hand into the other pocket, extracting his wand.  

'We won't be needing this,' she said, giving him a little smile. 

He reached and took one of her hands, and she moved to kiss him once on the cheek, 

'My dearest cousin,' she murmured into his ear, 'I do hope you've enjoyed the last two years…'  He kissed her chin in affirmation, as she took his hands around the back of the chair.  'Because you see, Regulus,' she continued, in a matter-of-fact way, 'you won't be getting to touch me…ever…again...'

He heard the metallic click of the handcuffs as they locked behind his back, and glanced startled, into her narrowed eyes, which were now shining with intensity.

She stepped away from him, folding her arms.

'Narcissa?'  he attempted, confused at this new power-game she had seemingly devised for him. 

She sneered down at him, that steely, bored look firmly back in place.

'I wonder, Regulus.  Whether you ever considered the penalty for your multitude of sins.'

'What's going on?  What are you doing?'  He wrenched at the bindings behind his back.

She smiled.

'Oh, Regulus.  Never were the brightest lantern in the street, were you?'  

'Get these things off me!  Stop messing around, Narcissa, I mean it!'  Panic began to rise in Regulus's chest.

'There are not many things worse than weakness,' she said, her glare burning holes in him, 'but treachery is certainly one of them.'

'Treachery?  What do you mean?'

A sound from the door to the stairs…

'And I have another surprise for you, too.'

'I think we need to talk about this, Narcissa!'

'Say hello,' she breathed as she gazed into the darkness.

The door swung slowly open.  Narcissa grinned.  Regulus gaped.

'Good evening,' drawled Lucius Malfoy.

*

'What the fuck are you doing here?!'  Regulus felt dizzy, sitting in the middle of his world as it spiralled out of his control.

Malfoy strolled across the rooftop, looking lazily into the night sky.

'Now, really, Regulus.  Are you unable to work that one out for yourself?'

'You're supposed to be in Bulgaria!  Why are you here?'

A slow malicious grin spread across Malfoy's face as his grey eyes glinted with murderous glee.

'To put things right.'

Regulus's eyes locked with Malfoy's as icy realisation began to spread through him.  

'I…don't know what you're talking about….'

'But I know what you're hiding.  And so does the Dark Lord.'

Regulus's heart faltered as realisation dissolved quickly into cold terror.

'But, there's no way…he couldn't have found out…how could he know-'

'The Dark Lord always knows, Black,' said Malfoy, with a self-satisfied smirk. 'And you forget that He possesses servants far more loyal than you.'

'What?! Who?!  How could-'  Regulus stopped, his mind frantic.  'No...'  He began to tremble and his skin turned a deathly pale as his gaze settled on Narcissa, who was standing watching, her arms folded, her white-blonde hair catching in the wind.  'He doesn't mean…please God, not you…'  Regulus's voice wavered as he pleaded to her, his heart high in his throat.

She stared glassily back at him.

'I will not allow you to shame my family.'

'Y-You went to the Dark Lord?  How could you do that!' he stammered.

Malfoy laughed, scathingly. 

'How could she not?'

'But she's in love with-I thought she was-with-'

'With _you_? drawled Malfoy, incredulously, 'dear dear, Regulus.  It seems you have become inextricably mired in a terrible delusion.'  His expression changed to raw hate in an instant.  _'Crucio!'_

Regulus screamed as the force of the curse threw him from the chair, and he landed hard, 

writhing on the rooftop, the stars in his vision blurred by agony and tears, until it broke off, leaving him gasping for air.  

He lay, broken, his body racked by Cruciatus, and he gazed pleadingly across at Lucius and Narcissa.

'You're wrong, Malfoy.  You weren't there,' he whispered, with all the strength he could find.  'You'll never know…'

Narcissa pulled out her wand and took a step forward, but Lucius rested a hand on her stomach to stop her.  He began walking slowly around where Regulus's tortured body lay, like a predator around the bleeding corpse before devouring.

'Oh, but I'm all too aware of what has passed while I've been away, Regulus.  This girl, trying to fill that wrenching emptiness inside her, with alcohol, with hatred, with _you_.  She  failed.  And I, I suffered alone, lost in the futility of life and dreams, trying to distract myself with meaningless pleasure that only amounted to a more powerful pain.  I failed.'

'Malfoy-' croaked Regulus, spitting blood from his mouth, and trying unsuccessfully to rise.

'And so what now?  One wonders where we can go from here,' continued Malfoy.

'Malfoy, listen to me-'

'You see, the thing about hitting rock bottom is, you can only go upwards from there.  And Narcissa and myself are owed a new beginning.'

'Malfoy, please, just-'

'A beginning which has been so generously granted to us by the Dark Lord himself.'

'Just listen to me, just wait a minute-'

'The air is heavy with sins, Regulus,' drawled Lucius, looking up into the night sky.  'Can you feel it?  Narcissa's.  Mine.  Yours.  And someone is going to die for them.'

'Don't be insane!  No one has to die!  I'll stay!  I'll serve with the Death Eaters, I'll do anything you want!'

'Dear, dear.  A coward as well as a traitor.  Are you so stupid as to believe that the Dark Lord would have any further use for a thing like you?  Really, Regulus, you should at least have learnt _that_ by now.'

Regulus gurgled a miserable moan, as blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

'Narcissa,' he whispered.

'You were just a bad habit of mine, Regulus,' she said, giving a small shrug.  'One that needs breaking.'

She turned from him, and uttered one more word.

_'Morsmordre!'_

Regulus closed his eyes.  His mind was pounding with black terror as he saw his life descend down into a gaping abyss.  A teardrop fell onto the stone of the rooftop.

He opened his weary eyes, and through the bleary despair, saw Malfoy raise his wand.  Regulus turned his head to his cousin for the last time, but it was only the first time he saw her for what she had been all along.  Just another beautiful, evil thing.

'I thought I could save you, Narcissa.  But you're as lost as Bellatrix,' he whispered, before a green flash seared through the air.

The last thing Regulus Black saw, before Avada ripped the life from his young body and the light faded from his eyes, was the deadly leering evil of the Dark Mark.

*

'Well,' said Lucius, looking down at the bottle, 'I don't suppose there's any point in wasting decent champagne, is there?'  He moved close to Narcissa and traced a pale finger slowly down her cheek to her neck, the tiniest half-smile settling on his features.

Narcissa gazed at him, finally finding her future in the way he looked back at her.

'What will we drink to?' she asked, her soft touch lingering on his forearm.

Lucius thought a moment, and looked to the sky before meeting her gaze once again.

'To those of us who were born to walk in dark places.'  

He nudged Regulus's body off the side of the tower with his boot, watching it fall and land, staring and broken in the shadows.

And then, with an apparation noise that left an echo in the air, the two were gone.

The End


End file.
